Death's Avenger

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘No,’ said Mrs. Holt fretfully. ‘Can you not understand? Have you heard nothing that I have told you? It will never be well! This house, this place, is cursed, Eino. No one will ever be safe here.’ She turned to her son and fixed him with a fierce, anxious stare, saying in an agitated tone: ‘Some disaster has come of it, has it not? I knew that it would. You must tell me!’

  Eino returned her stare, shaking his head with slow incomprehension. ‘I have been safe here, mother. I have lived here almost a year, and you for some months, and we are both unharmed. What, then, should threaten our guests?’

  Mrs. Holt gave a short, mirthless laugh, a sound more of despair than of joy. ‘My poor, fool boy, you can have no understanding…’

  Konrad’s attention was diverted by Nanda, who had found something to interest her in Eino’s vicinity. She bent over him, intent, her posture suggesting that she was listening for something. But if she was, it was not Eino’s words or his mother’s that absorbed her. What was she doing? He tried to catch her eye, but she did not notice.

  ‘Why, mother?’ said Eino, his voice rising. ‘Why did you bring us here, if it is “cursed”? Why did you make me buy this place, if it is so unsafe? My friends! You cannot imagine what has befallen them!’

  ‘Oh, I can, Eino,’ whispered his mother, growing more faded and tired even as Eino grew angry and vehement. ‘I can imagine it, all too well. I wish you had listened to me. I wish you had never hosted this ill-advised party.’

  Something Konrad had heard nagged at him. Something Eino had said… no, something that Nanda had said. She had not yet said very much; what had it been?

  Alina.

  Alina Holt, mother of Eino. Where had he lately heard that name? Or seen it, yes, he had seen that name, written… written upon the wall, on the other side of the house.

  ‘Alina,’ Konrad said abruptly, cutting across Eino’s lamentations. ‘Alina Holt. Forgive me, ma’am, but are you — were you —’

  The lady sighed more deeply than ever, and sank into her pillows as though she would never rise from them again. ‘Alina Vasilescu,’ she replied. ‘So I was, once.’ Her lips twisted in brief bitterness as she added, ‘My poor husband was not good enough for my father and mother. No money, no status. They threw us off, and little did they know how I blessed them for it.’

  ‘That is how you know so much about this place,’ Konrad said, his mind racing.

  Her eyes closed. ‘I have tried so to forget, but it is of no use. This place haunts me, and shall forever do so.’

  ‘Why,’ said Konrad, his mind overflowing with questions. ‘Why did you return here, if you despise it so? Why do you hate it? Why do you say that it is cursed?’

  ‘I returned here for my son’s sake,’ said Mrs. Holt, but she proceeded no further, for Nanda interrupted with a cry of horror which brought Konrad straight to her side.

  ‘Nan, what is it?’ He looked her over, heart pounding, appalled to imagine what might have befallen her in this terrible place. But she was whole and hale, no sign upon her of any calamity.

  Nanda paid him no attention, for she had none to spare from Eino. She laid a hand against her friend’s chest — the left side — and pressed hard against the layers of his cloak, her face ashen. Her other hand gripped one of Eino’s, and Konrad knew she was Reading him. ‘Eino, what has become of — how is it that you — I knew, I knew something was amiss with you, but this! This is unthinkable!’

  Eino stared miserably up at her, motionless. ‘Dearest Nan,’ he whispered. ‘If you have come to some conclusion regarding my present state, I beg you will share it, for I have not the least idea how I am altered.’ He swallowed, and said: ‘I only know that I am altered.’ He looked to his mother, but she turned away her face and would not meet his eye.

  Nanda, at last, remembered Konrad. The look she turned upon him was heartrending. ‘He is… he is altered somehow inside, Konrad. That is, he… I do not think his heart is his own.’

  ‘What,’ was all that Konrad could force past his suddenly frozen lips. Not his own? His heart? The look of sudden, horrified comprehension on Eino’s face told a tale; the answering look of apology and entreaty upon his mother’s told another.

  And a number of things clicked into place in Konrad’s mind. The emerging picture left him so sick to his stomach he could not, for one long, terrible instant, breathe at all.

  No one spoke.

  ‘You… you were so ill,’ said Mrs. Holt at last, and her words fell like stones into the heavy silence. ‘You were dying, Eino! How could I let that happen, when I had the means to save you? How could you ask me to lose you, too?’

  ‘But…’ said Eino, in a painful whisper. ‘How…?’

  He did not appear able to finish the question, and Konrad was not at all sure that he wanted to hear the answer, either. But he must.

  Mrs. Holt wet her lips, her eyes darting about the room as though she sought in vain for some means of escape. Could she rise from that bed at all? Was she capable, in her frailty? ‘I have never told you,’ she began at last. ‘I have kept from you the truth of your family — of my family — for I sought to spare you that pain. How I celebrated, when you were born! That I had found the means to escape from my family, and with their full collaboration! I knew they would never come after you, son as you were of so unworthy a man. You were safe, and forever.

  ‘But you became ill. The problem was with your heart, they said. It no longer functioned as it ought, and you grew sicker and sicker. Then they began to say that they could no longer treat you; that their medicines and elixirs could no longer affect you. Your heart, they said, would soon stop beating, and forever. You would die. My child, my only son! Your father already gone before you! How could I permit it?

  ‘We had always known what went on below the Vasilescu mansion. My sisters and I knew, always — even when we were children. No one concealed it from us, for we were to take our part in it in time. Olya did, of course. She delighted in it, like our mother and father. But I, and Ela — never.’

  She lapsed into silence, and did not seem disposed to rouse herself to further speech. ‘Is that why Ela sold the house?’ he prompted. He was guessing; Ela was the eldest of the three sisters, and most likely to inherit the family property.

  Mrs. Holt looked at him as though she had forgotten his presence. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Yes, of course it was. The money was gone, that was true, but no Vasilescu would ever have sold this place for so trivial a reason as that.’ He could not tell if she spoke sarcastically or not, for her tone was bland. ‘When the house came into Ela’s possession, she wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. So she sold it, for a mere pittance. Her buyer, she told me, had wanted it for an investment only — had no intention of living here. He or she never set foot in it, that I know of, but the fact that they could at any time they wished… well, that did not please Olya.

  ‘I took Eino to her. I begged her to save his life, by any means, so long as he lived. And she agreed, but at a price: that Eino should purchase the house, and live here, so that she and her revolting fellows should always be safe. That their lair should remain undisturbed.’

  ‘The cellars,’ Konrad guessed.

  ‘Caves,’ Mrs. Holt corrected. ‘They are connected to the cellars, yes, or they used to be.’

  ‘But how…’ said Nanda, a deep frown creasing her pale brow. ‘Your sister Olya, she… she gave Eino someone else’s heart?’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Mrs. Holt. ‘Do not ask me how, for I do not want to know. But the exchange was made, and my son lived.’ She turned her gaze to Eino upon these words, and Konrad read in her face a deep fear of what she had done, and a desperate need for her son’s forgiveness. But he, stunned and frightened by her news, could not speak. His chest rose and fell, far too quickly, and his face turned paler than Nanda’s.

  This was why Alen Petranov’s body had been butchered. This was why Kati Vinter’s organs were missing. They had been slain for their parts — or, perhaps,
for their knowledge, at least in Kati’s case, and her corpse turned to a grimmer purpose afterwards. They had taken Alen’s heart; did they intend it for such another use as in Eino’s case? Or did they have other uses for such an organ, taken as it had been from a body that yet breathed? Konrad’s imagination quailed, and shied away from the bloody prospects raised by such a train of thought.

  But another realisation, equally unpleasant, darted into his mind. ‘Druganin,’ he gasped. ‘Olya married a Druganin — she is the mother of Denis, isn’t she? What has he to do with all this?’

  Alina Holt looked at Konrad with the wide eyes of pure terror, and she gave a tearing gasp. ‘Oh, no. Eino, you did not… you did not extend the welcome of this house to your cousin?’

  ‘I… I did,’ whispered Eino. ‘He— he is all, nearly all, the family we have left.’

  Mrs. Holt erupted into activity, or an attempt at it. She threw off her covers and tottered to her feet, though she had not strength enough to go far. Konrad contrived to catch her just as she fell, and found her far too light in his arms. She was not merely frail; she was wasting away. But why? She was not young, but she was by no means old enough for such decrepitude. Was it care that had worn her away?

  ‘You must help them,’ said Alina Holt, her eyes feverish, words tumbling over each other in her haste. ‘Denis, he — he is the worst of them all! Far worse even than Olya, than Father — no one here is safe from him, do you understand? He is their tool, or so my sister believes. His is the hand that slew your friends, I am sure of it.’

  Konrad did understand, at least well enough to feel afraid. Tasha he did not fear for, but Nuritov was somewhere in the house, attempting to coax confidences from Lilli Lahti. Marko Bekk, too, remained, and all the servants…! Poor, foolish Eino had provided his cousin with a veritable buffet of victims.

  What if something had already gone awry? What if Lilli — or, Malykt Avert, the inspector — had already been sacrificed to Druganin’s predations?

  These ruminations were interrupted by the sudden presence of Eetapi in his head. Master! she shrieked, at such volume that Konrad jumped. Master, we have found them! They loiter far below, which is quite fitting, dear Master, for they are terrible—

  They are wonderful! Interrupted Ootapi.

  —terrible and wonderful, continued Eetapi. May we have an underground lair, Master? And a coven?

  A coven? Konrad spoke sharply, cutting across his serpents’ babble.

  A coven of witches!

  They are not witches, Ootapi said crossly.

  Then what are they?

  I do not know, but—

  Enough! Konrad roared the word, and was gratified by the sudden, dead silence that followed. Witches or not; who are these people you have found, and where are they?

  In caves below the house, said Eetapi much more succinctly.

  They are the ones who stole the parts, added Ootapi.

  Is Denis Druganin among them?

  No, Master, said the serpents as one.

  Konrad looked at Eino, who remained ashen-faced and sombre. ‘Holt. You and your cousin. Would you say that you are friends?’

  ‘Of course, I—’ began Eino, but his mother interrupted.

  ‘No!’ she said with vehemence, and added with some bitterness towards her son, ‘How can you be such a fool as to imagine Druganin has friends? If he did, you would be the last to be counted among them, Eino!’

  ‘That is what I was afraid of,’ said Konrad grimly. ‘Has Druganin any designs upon this house?’

  ‘Of course he does,’ said Mrs. Holt. ‘They all do.’

  Chapter Nine

  Upon receiving the serpents’ directions into the caves, Konrad’s first priority was to establish the whereabouts of Alexander Nuritov. This, to his relief, he accomplished very quickly, for Alexander was where Konrad had left him earlier: in the theatre. Lilli, though, was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Marko.

  ‘Savast,’ said the inspector in his friendly way, and smiled as Konrad entered the room. ‘I was hoping to speak to you.’

  ‘Can it wait?’ said Konrad.

  Alexander blinked. ‘It— no, I think not. Lilli and Marko have naught to do with this bad business, theirs are personal disputes. But—’

  ‘Such as what?’ Konrad interrupted, a little sharply. He knew better than anyone that a mere personal dispute was often considered more than motive enough for murder.

  ‘Poor Lilli has a passion for Marko, but he is, ah… more disposed to favour the maids.’

  Konrad thought back to the flicker of some green article of clothing he had caught a glimpse of below-stairs. ‘In particular, the kitchen maids?’ he guessed. That explained Marko’s tendency to loiter around the sculleries.

  ‘Quite so. But Denis—’

  ‘I know all about him,’ interrupted Konrad — first checking to ensure that Druganin was not still lingering somewhere in the theatre himself. He was not. The room was empty save only for the inspector.

  ‘Did you know that his room is directly above the pantry?’

  ‘I… no, I did not.’

  ‘Directly above, two floors up. The maids say that he requested it especially from Eino.’

  Konrad frowned, momentarily confused. Why would Druganin particularly want a room above the pantry where— oh. Oh.

  ‘That chute,’ said Konrad. ‘It goes down into the cellars — or the caves — but it also goes up.’

  The inspector nodded. ‘It is likely that Alen and Kati were killed below, and… and harvested,’ he said softly. ‘And their remains passed upwards, to… to Druganin’s room.’

  ‘For purposes unknown, I conclude.’

  ‘I have not yet been able to discover what he is doing with them.’

  Konrad grimaced. ‘I begin to feel that we may wish to be spared the details. Have you been into his room?’

  ‘Briefly. No traces remain of whatever he has been doing with — with the—’

  ‘All right,’ Konrad said hastily. ‘I must tell you my findings, and then we are to go below. With all due haste, for Tasha and the serpents have found the way into the levels below the cellars.’

  The inspector gave the matter his immediate attention. Konrad ran through his discoveries as swiftly as he could, and within minutes the two were bundled in cloaks and venturing outside, where Tasha waited. Nanda joined them as they passed the door, wrapped so tightly in her coats and scarves that her face barely showed at all. Konrad ventured a questioning look, which she answered with a low growl of irritation.

  ‘Do not think you can talk me out of going with you,’ she hissed, and Konrad stifled the concerns he had been inclined to express. If the truth were told, he was glad to have Nanda’s company, for all that he worried for her safety, her health, her well-being, her… well, everything. She was the kind of ally he would keep always at hand, if he could.

  ‘We do not know where Druganin is?’ Konrad asked, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of freezing wind that hit the moment he stepped beyond the front door. The promise of further snow hung heavy in the air, and great black clouds massed ominously upon the horizon. There was a blizzard on the approach.

  ‘I have not been able to find him,’ shouted Nuritov over the howl of the wind. ‘He left the theatre soon after you did, and he has not been seen since.’

  That boded ill, and confused Konrad besides. If Denis was not in the caves and he was not in the house, where was he?

  Were Eino and Mrs. Holt safe? He and Nanda had wrangled grimly over what was to be done, and had reluctantly trusted to the secrecy of Mrs. Holt’s residence in the house for her protection. It would be enough, perhaps; Denis had no reason to suspect Mrs. Holt’s presence, or to harm her either (so he hoped). Nor had he any reason to imagine that part of the house to be inhabited.

  It was nowhere near enough, but he and Nanda had been able to come up with no better plan. They needed Tasha, the inspector and both the serpents if they were to infiltrate the caves;
by the serpents’ account, rather more people were to be encountered below than Konrad had expected. A coven, Eetapi had said. Olya Druganin, perhaps, and… who else?

  Tasha’s directions had been specific, and they had seemed straightforward. But hearing them and attempting to follow them through a snow-ridden landscape, with the wind shrieking around his ears and his face rapidly turning numb, proved to be markedly different experiences. Konrad, Nanda and Alexander ploughed on into the dark, snowy woods surrounding the house at Divoro, grimly determined in the face of any degree of inclement weather. The black fir trees blurred together after a while, stark as they were against the bleak wooded landscape, and Konrad almost walked straight past the tree he was looking for.

  ‘A twisted fir, its branches resembling corkscrews,’ Konrad muttered, recalling Tasha’s words. He raised his voice to shout to his companions: ‘Do those look like corkscrews to you?’

  ‘Excessively,’ Nanda called.

  They were close, then. He covered his mouth once again with his thick scarf before his lips could altogether freeze, and cast about for the final signs Tasha had given him in order to… ah, there it was. A little row of fir trees like soldiers stationed upon the watch, and at their farthest end…

  ‘Oh!’ shrieked Nanda, and Konrad caught her arm just as she began to topple into the dark hole that yawned in the ground, its mouth half-filled with drifted snow. She steadied herself at once, snatched her arm out of Konrad’s grip, and took a determined step forward. ‘Let’s get this done,’ she said.

  Konrad would have preferred it if she had permitted him to go first, but he knew better than to try to overturn her decision. So he fell in behind her, while Nuritov brought up the rear.

  The roar of the wind cut off abruptly, the moment they were fairly inside the downward-sloping tunnel. Konrad’s ears rang in the sudden quiet, and he paused to shake the snow out of his hair and his scarf.

  ‘Finally,’ said a voice, and Konrad jumped. Again.